Clowne I say no, she ought not to be buried
        In christian buriall.

        2. Why sir?

        Clowne Mary because shee's drownd.

5       2. But she did not drowne her selfe.

        Clowne No, that's certaine, the water drown'd her.

        2. Yea but it was against her will.

        Clowne No, I deny that, for looke you sir, I stand here,
        If the water come to me, I drowne not my selfe:
10     But if I goe to the water, and am there drown'd,
        Ergo I am guiltie of my owne death:
        Y'are gone, goe y'are gone sir.

        2. I but see, she hath christian buriall,
        Because she is a great woman.

15    Clowne Mary more's the pitty, that great folke
        Should haue more authoritie to hang or drowne
        Themselues, more than other people:
        Goe fetch me a stope of drinke, but before thou
        Goest, tell me one thing, who buildes strongest,
20     Of a Mason, a Shipwright, or a Carpenter?

        2. Why a Mason, for he buildes all of stone,
        And will indure long.

        Clowne That's prety, too't agen, too't agen.

        2. Why then a Carpenter, for he buildes the gallowes,
25     And that brings many a one to his long home.

        Clowne Prety agen, the gallowes doth well, mary howe
        dooes it well? the gallowes dooes well to them that doe ill,
        goe get thee gone:
        And if any one aske thee hereafter, say,
30     A Graue-maker, for the houses he buildes
        Last till Doomes-day. Fetch me a stope of beere, goe.

        Clowne A picke-axe and a spade,
        A spade for and a winding sheete,
        Most fit it is, for t'will be made,
35     For such a ghest most meete.

        Ham. Hath this fellow any feeling of himselfe,
        That is thus merry in making of a graue?
        See how the slaue joles their heads against the earth.

        Hor. My lord, Custome hath made it in him seeme nothing.

40     Clowne A pick-axe and a spade, a spade,
        For and a winding sheete,
        Most fit it is for to be made,
        For such a ghest most meet.

        Ham. Looke you, there's another Horatio.
45    Why mai't not be the scull of some Lawyer?
        Me thinkes he should indite that fellow
        Of an action of Batterie, for knocking
        Him about the pate with's shouel: now where is your
        Quirkes and quillets now, your vouchers and
50     Double vouchers, your leafes and free-holde,
        And tenements? why that same boxe there will scarse
        Holde the conueiance of his land, and must
        The honor lie there? O pittiful transformance!
        I prethee tell me Horatio,
55     Is parchment made of sheep-skinnes?

        Hor. I my Lorde, and of calues-skinnes too.

        Ham. Ifaith they prooue themselues sheepe and calues
        That deale with them, or put their trust in them.
        There's another, why may not that be such a ones
60     Scull, that praised my Lord such a ones horse,
        When he meant to beg him? Horatio, I prethee
        Lets question yonder fellow.
        Now my friend, whose graue is this?

        Clowne Mine sir.

65     Ham. But who must lie in it?

        Clowne If I should say, I should, I should lie in my throat sir.

        Ham. What man must be buried here?

        Clowne No man sir.

        Ham. What woman?

70    Clowne. No woman neither sir, but indeede
        One that was a woman.

        Ham. An excellent fellow by the Lord Horatio,
        This seauen yeares haue I noted it: the toe of the pesant,
        Comes so neere the heele of the courtier,
75    That hee gawles his kibe, I prethee tell mee one thing,
        How long will a man lie in the ground before hee rots?

        Clowne I faith sir, if hee be not rotten before
        He be laide in, as we haue many pocky corses,
        He will last you, eight yeares, a tanner
80     Will last you eight yeares full out, or nine.

        Ham. And why a tanner?

        Clowne Why his hide is so tanned with his trade,
        That it will holde out water, that's a parlous
        Deuourer of your dead body, a great soaker.
85     Looke you, heres a scull hath bin here this dozen yeare,
        Let me see, I euer since our last king Hamlet
        Slew Fortenbrasse in combat, yong Hamlets father,
        Hee that's mad.

        Ham. I mary, how came he madde?

90     Clowne Ifaith very strangely, by loosing of his wittes.

        Ham. Vpon what ground?

        Clowne A this ground, in Denmarke.

        Ham. Where is he now?

        Clowne Why now they sent him to England.

95    Ham. To England! wherefore?

        Clowne Why they say he shall haue his wittes there,
        Or if he haue not, t'is no great matter there,
        It will not be seene there.

        Ham. Why not there?

100   Clowne Why there they say the men are as mad as he.

        Ham. Whose scull was this?

        Clowne This, a plague on him, a madde rogues it was,
        He powred once a whole flagon of Rhenish of my head,
        Why do not you know him? this was one Yorickes scull.

105   Ham. Was this? I prethee let me see it, alas poore Yoricke
        I knew him Horatio,
        A fellow of infinite mirth, he hath caried mee twenty times
        vpon his back, here hung those lippes that I haue Kissed a
        hundred times, and to see, now they abhorre me: Wheres
110   your iests now Yoricke? your flashes of meriment: now go
        to my Ladies chamber, and bid her paint her selfe an inch
        thicke, to this she must come Yoricke. Horatio, I prethee
        tell me one thing, doost thou thinke that Alexander looked
        thus?

115   Hor. Euen so my Lord.

        Ham. And smelt thus?

        Hor. I my lord, no otherwise.

        Ham. No, why might not imagination worke, as thus of
       Alexander, Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander
120  became earth, of earth we make clay, and Alexander being
        but clay, why might not time bring to passe, that he might
        stoppe the boung hole of a beere barrell?
        Imperious Casar dead and turnd to clay,
        Might stoppe a hole, to keepe the winde away.
125   Ham. What funerall's this that all the Court laments?
        It shews to be some noble parentage:
        Stand by a while.

        Lear. What ceremony else? say, what ceremony else?

        Priest My Lord, we haue done all that lies in vs,
130   And more than well the church can tolerate,
        She hath had a Dirge sung for her maiden soule:
        And but for fauour of the king, and you,
        She had beene buried in the open fieldes,
        Where now she is allowed christian buriall.

135   Lear. So, I tell thee churlish Priest, a ministring Angell
        shall my sister be, when thou liest howling.

        Ham. The faire Ofelia dead!

        Queene Sweetes to the sweete, farewell:
        I had thought to adorne thy bridale bed, faire maide,
140   And not to follow thee vnto thy graue.

        Lear. Forbeare the earth a while: sister farewell:

        Now powre your earth on, Olympus hie,
        And make a hill to o're top olde Pellon:

        Whats he that coniures so?

145   Ham. Beholde tis I, Hamlet the Dane.

        Lear. The diuell take thy soule.

        Ham. O thou praiest not well,
        I prethee take thy hand from off my throate,
        For there is something in me dangerous,
150   Which let thy wisedome feare, holde off thy hand:
        I lou'de Ofelia as deere as twenty brothers could:
        Shew me what thou wilt doe for her:
        Wilt fight, wilt fast, wilt pray,
        Wilt drinke vp vessels, eate a crocadile? Ile doot:
155   Com'st thou here to whine?
        And where thou talk'st of burying thee a liue,
        Here let vs stand: and them them throw on vs,
        Whole hills of earth, till with the height therof,
        Make Oosell as a Wart.

160   King. Forbeare Leartes, now is hee mad, as is the sea,
        Anone as milde and gentle as a Doue:
        Therfore a while giue his wilde humour scope.

        Ham. What is the reason sir that you wrong mee thus?
        I neuer gaue you cause: but stand away,
165   A Cat will meaw, a Dog will haue a day.


        Queene. Alas, it is his madnes makes him thus,
        And not his heart, Leartes.

        King. My lord, t'is so: but wee'le no longer trifle,
        This very day shall Hamlet drinke his last,
170   For presently we meane to send to him,
        Therfore Leartes be in readynes.

        Lear. My lord, till then my soule will not bee quiet.

        King. Come Gertred, wee'l haue Leartes, and our sonne,
        Made friends and Louers, as befittes them both,
175   Euen as they tender vs, and loue their countrie.

        Queene God grant they may.

 

       Clowne. Is shee to be buried in Christian buriall, when she wilfully
       seekes her owne saluation?

       Other. I tell thee she is, therfore make her graue straight, the crow-
       ner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian buriall.

5      Clowne. How can that be, vnlesse she drown'd herselfe in her owne
       defence.

       Other. Why tis found so.

       Clowne.  It must be so offended, it cannot be els, for heere lyes the
       poynt, if I drowne my selfe wittingly, it argues an act, & an act hath
10    three branches, it is to act, to doe, to performe, or all; she drownd her
       selfe wittingly.

       Other. Nay, but heare you good man deluer.

       Clowne. Giue mee leaue, here lyes the water, good, here stands the
       man, good, if the man goe to this water & drowne himselfe, it is will
15    he, nill he, he goes, marke you that, but if the water come to him, &
       drowne him, he drownes not himselfe, argall, he that is not guilty of
       his owne death, shortens not his owne life.

       Other. But is this law?

       Clowne. I marry i'st, Crowners quest law.

20    Other. Will you ha the truth an't, if this had not beene a gentlewo-
       man, she should haue been buried out a christian buriall.

       Clowne. Why there thou sayst, and the more pitty that great folke
       should haue countnaunce in this world to drowne or hang the~selues,
       more then theyr euen Christen: Come my spade, there is no aunci-
25     ent gentlemen but Gardners, Ditchers, and Grauemakers, they hold
       vp Adams profession.

       Other. Was he a gentleman?

       Clowne. A was the first that euer bore Armes.
       Ile put another question to thee, if thou answerest me not to the pur-
30    pose, confesse thy selfe.

       Other. Goe to.

       Clow. What is he that builds stronger then eyther the Mason, the
       Shypwright, or the Carpenter.

       Other. The gallowes maker, for that out-liues a thousand tenants.

35    Clowne. I like thy wit well in good fayth, the gallowes dooes well,
       but howe dooes it well? It dooes well to those that do ill, nowe thou
       doost ill to say the gallowes is built stronger then the Church, argall,
       the gallowes may doo well to thee. Too't againe, come.

       Other. VVho buildes stronger then a Mason, a Shipwright, or a
40    Carpenter.

       Clowne. I, tell me that and vnyoke.

       Other. Marry now I can tell.

       Clowne. Too't.

       Other. Masse I cannot tell.

45    Clow. Cudgell thy braines no more about it, for your dull asse wil
       not mend his pace with beating, and when you are askt this question
       next, say a graue-maker, the houses hee makes lasts till Doomesday.
       Goe get thee in, and fetch mee a soope of liquer.
       In youth when I did loue did loue,                      Song.
50    Me thought it was very sweet
       To contract o the time for a my behoue,
       O me thought there a was nothing a meet.

        Ham. Has this fellowe no feeling of his busines? a sings in graue-
        making.

55     Hora. Custome hath made it in him a propertie of easines.

        Ham. Tis een so, the hand of little imploiment hath the dintier sence

        Clow. But age with his stealing steppes             Song.
        hath clawed me in his clutch,
        And hath shipped me into the land,
60     as if I had neuer been such.

        Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once, how the
        knaue iowles it to the ground, as if twere Caines iawbone, that did the
        first murder, this might be the pate of a pollitician, which this asse now
        ore-reaches; one that would circumuent God, might it not?

65     Hora. It might my Lord.

        Ham. Or of a Courtier, which could say good morrow sweet lord,
        how doost thou sweet lord? This might be my Lord such a one, that
        praised my lord such a ones horse when a went to beg it, might it not?

        Hor. I my Lord.

70     Ham. Why een so, & now my Lady wormes Choples, & knockt
        about the massene with a Sextens spade; heere's fine reuolution and
        we had the tricke to see't, did these bones cost no more the breeding,
        but to play at loggits with them: mine ake to thinke on't.

        Clow. A pickax and a spade a spade,                        Song.
75     for and a shrowding sheet,
        O a pit of Clay for to be made
        for such a guest is meet.

        Ham. There's another, why may not that be the skull of a Lawyer,
        where be his quiddities now, his quillites, his cases, his tenurs, and his
80     tricks? why dooes he suffer this madde knaue now to knocke him a-
        bout the sconce with a durtie shouell, and will not tell him of his acti-
        on of battery, hum, this fellowe might be in's time a great buyer of
        Land, with his Statuts, his recognisances, his fines, his double vou-
        chers, his recoueries, to haue his fine pate full of fine durt, will vou-
85     chers vouch him no more of his purchases & doubles then the length
        and breadth of a payre of Indentures? The very conueyances of his
        Lands will scarcely lye in this box, & must th'inheritor himselfe haue
        no more, ha.

        Hora. Not a iot more my Lord.

90     Ham. Is not Parchment made of sheepe-skinnes?

        Hora. I my Lord, and of Calues-skinnes to.

        Ham. They are Sheepe and Calues which seeke out assurance in
        that, I wil speak to this fellow. Whose graue's this sirra ?

        Clow. Mine sir, or a pit of clay for to be made.

95     Ham. I thinke it be thine indeede, for thou lyest in't.

        Clow. You lie out ont sir, and therefore tis not yours; for my part I
        doe not lie in't, yet it is mine.

        Ham. Thou doost lie in't to be in't & say it is thine, tis for the dead,
        not for the quicke, therefore thou lyest.

100   Clow. Tis a quicke lye sir, twill away againe from me to you.

        Ham. What man doost thou digge it for?

        Clow. For no man sir.

        Ham. What woman then?

        Clow. For none neither.

105   Ham. Who is to be buried in't?

        Clow. One that was a woman sir, but rest her soule shee's dead.

        Ham. How absolute the knaue is, we must speake by the card, or
        equiuocation will vndoo vs. By the Lord Horatio, this three yeeres I
        haue tooke note of it, the age is growne so picked, that the toe of the
110   pesant coms so neere the heele of the Courtier he galls his kybe. How
        long hast thou been Graue-maker?

        Clow. Of the dayes i'th yere I came too't that day that our last king
        Hamlet ouercame Fortenbrasse.

        Ham. How long is that since?

115   Clow. Cannot you tell that? euery foole can tell that, it was that
        very day that young Hamlet was borne: hee that is mad and sent into
        England.

        Ham. I marry, why was he sent into England?

        Clow. Why because a was mad: a shall recouer his wits there, or if
120   a doo not, tis no great matter there.

        Ham. Why?

        Clow. Twill not be seene in him there, there the men are as mad
        Ham. How came he mad?

        Clow. Very strangely they say.

125   Ham. How strangely?

        Clow. Fayth eene with loosing his wits.

        Ham. Vpon what ground?

        Clow. Why heere in Denmarke: I haue been Sexten heere man
        and boy thirty yeeres.

130   Ham. How long will a man lie i'th earth ere he rot?

        Clow. Fayth if a be not rotten before a die, as we haue many poc-
        kie corses, that will scarce hold the laying in, a will last you som eyght
        yeere, or nine yeere. A Tanner will last you nine yeere.

        Ham. Why he more then another?

135   Clow. Why sir, his hide is so tand with his trade, that a will keepe
        out water a great while; & your water is a sore decayer of your whor-
        son dead body, heer's a scull now hath lyen you i'th earth 23. yeeres.

        Ham. Whose was it?

        Clow. A whorson mad fellowes it was, whose do you think it was?

140   Ham. Nay I know not.

        Clow. A pestilence on him for a madde rogue, a pourd a flagon of
        Renish on my head once; this same skull sir, was sir Yoricks skull, the
        Kings Iester.

        Ham. This?

145   Clow. Een that.

        Ham. Alas poore Yoricke, I knew him Horatio, a fellow of infinite
        iest, of most excellent fancie, hee hath bore me on his backe a thou-
        sand times, and now how abhorred in my imagination it is: my gorge
        rises at it. Heere hung those lyppes that I haue kist I know not howe
150   oft, where be your gibes now? your gamboles, your songs, your fla-
        shes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roare, not one
        now to mocke your owne grinning, quite chopfalne. Now get you
        to my Ladies table, & tell her, let her paint an inch thicke, to this fa-
        uour she must come, make her laugh at that.
155   Prethee Horatio tell me one thing.

        Hora. What's that my Lord?

        Ham. Doost thou thinke Alexander lookt a this fashion i'th earth?

        Hora. Een so.

        Ham. And smelt so pah.

160   Hora. Een so my Lord.

        Ham. To what base vses wee may returne Horatio? Why may not
        imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till a find it stopping
        a bunghole?

        Hor. Twere to consider too curiously to consider so.

165   Ham. No faith, not a iot, but to follow him thether with modesty
        enough, and likelyhood to leade it. Alexander dyed, Alexander was
        buried, Alexander returneth to dust, the dust is earth, of earth vvee
        make Lome, & why of that Lome whereto he was conuerted, might
        they not stoppe a Beare-barrell?
170  Imperious Caesar dead, and turn'd to Clay,
        Might stoppe a hole, to keepe the wind away.
        O that that earth which kept the world in awe,
        Should patch a wall t'expell the waters flaw.
        But soft, but soft awhile, here comes the King,         


175   The Queene, the Courtiers, who is this they follow?  
        And with such maimed rites? this doth betoken,       
        The corse they follow, did with desprat hand
        Foredoo it owne life, twas of some estate,
        Couch we a while and marke.

180   Laer. What Ceremonie els?

        Ham. That is Laertes a very noble youth, marke.

        Laer. What Ceremonie els?

        Doct. Her obsequies haue been as farre inlarg'd
        As we haue warrantie, her death was doubtfull,
185   And but that great commaund ore-swayes the order,
        She should in ground vnsanctified been lodg'd
        Till the last trumpet: for charitable prayers,
        Flints and peebles should be throwne on her:
        Yet heere she is allow'd her virgin Crants,
190   Her mayden strewments, and the bringing home
        Of bell and buriall.

        Laer. Must there no more be doone?

        Doct. No more be doone.
        We should prophane the seruice of the dead;
195   To sing a Requiem and such rest to her
        As to peace-parted soules.

        Laer. Lay her i'th earth,
        And from her faire and vnpolluted flesh
        May Violets spring: I tell thee churlish Priest,
200   A ministring Angell shall my sister be
        When thou lyest howling.

        Ham. What, the faire Ophelia.

        Quee. Sweets to the sweet, farewell,
        I hop't thou should'st haue been my Hamlets wife,
205   I thought thy bride-bed to haue deckt sweet maide,
        And not haue strew'd thy graue.

        Laer. O treble woe
        Fall tenne times double on that cursed head,
        Whose wicked deede thy most ingenious sence
210   Depriued thee of, hold off the earth a while,
        Till I haue caught her once more in mine armes;
        Now pile your dust vpon the quicke and dead,
        Till of this flat a mountaine you haue made
        To'retop old Pelion, or the skyesh head
215   Of blew Olympus.

        Ham. What is he whose griefe
        Beares such an emphesis, whose phrase of sorrow
        Coniures the wandring starres, and makes them stand
        Like wonder wounded hearers: this is I
220   Hamlet the Dane.

        Laer. The deuill take thy soule.

        Ham. Thou pray'st not well, I prethee take thy fingers
        For though I am not spleenatiue rash,
        Yet haue I in me something dangerous,
225   Which let thy wisedome feare; hold off thy hand,

        King. Pluck them a sunder.

        Quee. Hamlet, Hamlet.

        All. Gentlemen.

        Hora. Good my Lord be quiet.

230   Ham. Why, I will fight with him vpon this theame
        Vntill my eye-lids will no longer wagge.

        Quee. O my sonne, what theame?

        Ham. I loued Ophelia, forty thousand brothers
        Could not with all theyr quantitie of loue
225   Make vp my summe. What wilt thou doo for her.

        King. O he is mad Laertes.

        Quee. For loue of God forbeare him.

        Ham. S'wounds shew me what th'owt doe:
        Woo't weepe, woo't fight, woo't fast, woo't teare thy selfe,
230   Woo't drinke vp Esill, eate a Crocadile?
        Ile doo't, doost come heere to whine?
        To out-face me with leaping in her graue,
        Be buried quicke with her, and so will I.
        And if thou prate of mountaines, let them throw
235   Millions of Acres on vs, till our ground
        Sindging his pate against the burning Zone
        Make Ossa like a wart, nay and thou'lt mouthe,
        Ile rant as well as thou.

        Quee. This is meere madnesse,
240   And this a while the fit will worke on him,
        Anon as patient as the female Doue
        When that her golden cuplets are disclosed
        His silence will sit drooping.

        Ham. Heare you sir,
245   What is the reason that you vse me thus?
        I lou'd you euer, but it is no matter,
        Let Hercules himselfe doe what he may
        The Cat will mew, and Dogge will haue his day.


         King. I pray thee good Horatio waite vpon him.            
250    Strengthen your patience in our last nights speech,
         Weele put the matter to the present push:
         Good Gertrard set some watch ouer your sonne,
         This graue shall haue a liuing monument,
         An houre of quiet thereby shall we see
255    Tell then in patience our proceeding be.

Enter two Clownes.

    fices: one that could circumuent God, might it not?

80     Hor. It might, my Lord.

           Ham. Or of a Courtier, which could say, Good Mor-
           row sweet Lord: how dost thou, good Lord? this
           might be my Lord such a one, that prais'd my Lord such
           a ones Horse, when he meant to begge it; might it not?

85     Hor. I, my Lord.

           Ham. Why ee'n so: and now my Lady Wormes,
           Chaplesse, and knockt about the Mazard with a Sextons
           Spade; heere's fine Reuolution, if wee had the tricke to
           see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but
90     to play at Loggets with 'em? mine ake to thinke
           on't.
                                                Clowne sings.
            A Pickhaxe and a Spade, a Spade,
            for and a shrowding-Sheete:
            O a Pit of Clay for to be made,
95       for such a Guest is meete.

         Ham. There's another: why might not that bee the
            Scull of a Lawyer? where be his Quiddits now? his
            Quillets? his Cases? his Tenures, and his Tricks? why
         doe's he suffer this rude knaue now to knocke him about